


nothing says coffee like

by idekman



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: AU, College AU, F/M, Student AU, UST, diner au, frank is a grumbly luke danes-esque diner owner, karen page needs a nap, slow-burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:32:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idekman/pseuds/idekman
Summary: There’s something distracting about the girl’s presence, as much as he tries to force abject disinterest. Her hair is long and blond, pulled up into a messy bun – he thinks he can see a pen buried in there somewhere – and she’s clearly exhausted. Distracted, too; she’s trying to pull on a jacket with one hand as she flips through revision cards with the other, mumbling facts under her breath as she goes.When her hand reaches for the door handle, he realises it’s trembling.‘Hey,’ he calls out, before he can stop himself. The girl turns, concern written across her features. ‘When did you last eat?’She opens her mouth, lets out a long, unconvincing, uh that has him rolling his eyes.‘If you don’t know, it’s been too long,’ he mutters, shaking his head. ‘Wait there.’-Karen, Foggy and Matt get banned from every coffee shop within walkable distance. Frank's diner offers a dubious respite.





	

There’s some student who’s been sat by the window for four hours and is still nursing the same cup of coffee. And sure, usually he’d be pretty lenient with this sort of thing. But the kid’s also taking up an entire table, bags and coats slung over various chairs, papers spread across the entire table top, a stack of folders shifting precariously every time someone comes in through the door.

He approaches, coffee pot in one hand, notepad and pen in the other. It’s a pointed gesture.

‘Refill?’ He asks, gruff. The kid looks up, face open and pleasant. Usually, a glare from Frank Castle is enough to scare off even the hardiest of students – but this kid just fuckin _smiles_ , holds his coffee cup out.

‘Thank you,’ the guy chirps, all innocent and slightly distracted but all together quite genuinely polite. Frank wants to smack him upside the head with the coffee pot.

‘Can I get you anything else?' 

‘Oh, no –’

‘Maybe some fries?’ Frank cuts in. ‘We do a great burger, too –' 

‘No, honestly –’

The bell above the door chimes, interrupting the two of them. A gangly blonde breezes into the diner, bringing a waft of the day’s dry heat with them. She remains paused at the precipice until her eyes land on the student Frank’s attempting to harass into ordering some food. He looks inordinately grateful that she’s arrived.

‘Hey, Foggy – excuse me –’ the blonde shuffles past, leans over the table to press a quick kiss to the kid’s cheek and settles in opposite him, clearing herself a space of textbooks and papers.

‘Welcome to Frank’s,’ Frank mumbles, slamming the coffee pot down on the table, earning a startled jump from the pair. Deliberately, he clicks his pen against his notepad and hovers, poised to write. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Oh – just a coffee, please,’ the girl smiles absently, already beginning to haul books out from her own bag. The diner table is beginning to wilt under the combined weight of what looks to be the entire contents of the Columbia University library. He remains, stood, watches as she comes to look back at him, large blue eyes turned wide. He tries to his features into something a little friendlier. He fails. ‘And… some fries?’ The girl questions. 

‘One plate of fries, coming up. I’ll get your coffee to you in a second.’

-

‘I can’t, Foggy. I can’t anymore. Please. Make it stop.’

Foggy enters Karen’s room to find her draped across every scrap of paper, textbook, notepad and revision card she’s collated across four years of study.   

‘Jesus Christ,’ he bleats. She raises her head to stare at him as he takes in the pit of chaos and study-inspired despair that is her room.

‘I’m dying.’

 ‘You’re not _dying_. You can't _die_ of studying, it's not a disease.’

‘Who’s got a disease?’

‘No one,’ Foggy shouts down the hallway to Matt, who’s just come in, the door clicking shut behind him. ‘Karen’s just being a drama queen.’

She throws a balled up page of notes at him. They both watch as it lands a meter short and rolls, pathetically, to a stop at his foot.

‘Slander!’ She shouts.

‘Karen, we’re _so close_ ,’ Matt sighs, reaching for the door frame and slumping against it.

‘Two more days,’ Foggy chirps up, which only prompts another, admittedly dramatic, groan from the floor. ‘And then we’re done. _Forever!_ You just need to – to get out of the house. Let’s go study somewhere.’

Karen finds her face screwing up even as she straightens, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

‘Like where?’

Matt tilts his head to one side.

‘I’m pretty sure the barista at the last Starbucks said Foggy and I were banned from every store in the tri-state area after last time.’

‘I _told_ you they wouldn’t let you nap there,’ Karen huffs. ‘What about the place down the road – that cute coffee place with –’ she cuts herself off at the look on Matt’s face. ‘No! There too? _Why?_ What did you do?’

‘Elektra –’ Matt starts up, which prompts a chorus of groans that he has to raise his voice to speak over; ‘Elektra chewed out the barista there and we’ve got a lifetime ban now.’

‘Ugh, _Matt!’_

‘Yeah, they took a picture and put it up on the wall and everything.’ 

‘Fine – fine,’ Foggy interrupts, desperately placating. ‘There’s that place on campus with the wifi…’ He trails off at the look on Karen’s face. ‘Not Brownie’s, _tell_ me you didn’t get us banned from Brownie’s. They let _everyone_ in.’

‘I may have plugged my laptop charger in – you know, the old one.’

‘The one with the frayed cable that I told you to replace sixteen times last week?’ Matt asks sternly, folding his arms across his chest. Even from behind his glasses she can see the judgement stamped across his face.

‘You blew the fuse, didn’t you?’

Karen buries her face in her hands. 

‘Their electricity went down for, like, an hour.’

‘There must be somewhere within walking distance that we _haven’t_ been banned from,’ Foggy groans, moving to slump down on Karen’s bed – and then, upon catching the bright-eyed look Karen sends him; ‘No, Karen –’

‘Come _on!’_

‘No, not again! Not after last time!’

‘It won’t be so bad when there’s all three of us! And there’s air-con! Please, Foggy, I’m melting in here, I took three showers today and I still feel sticky –’

‘I’m _not_ going back to the murder diner, Karen!’

‘ _Now_ who’s being a drama queen,’ she grumbles, reaching up to wipe sweat off the back of her neck.

‘I heard someone did actually get murdered there once,' Matt pipes up.

 

' _Exactly_ ,' Foggy gestures. 'And, more importantly - they don’t even have wi-fi there! You know what they do have? An owner who spent three hours glaring at me.’

‘And bringing you sweet, sweet free coffee refills,’ she pushes, brushing straight past the way Foggy rolls her eyes at her. ‘A system we flagrantly abused for _ages_ last time.’

Foggy slumps, feeling defeat in the air even as he turns to Matt.

‘Well, buddy, you’re the deciding vote.’ Matt’s mouth opens, and shuts. ‘Just a reminder, pal, we’re going into business together. This decision could very much decide our working relationship for the rest of our lives –’ the balled up notes connects with Foggy’s knee this time.

Finally, Matt shrugs.

‘You said they have air-con?’

‘Hopeless!’ Foggy cries, even as Karen lets out a smugly victorious _ha_ that gets buried under Foggy’s groans.

-

The diner is a little less busy when the familiar faces – joined, this time, by a third – enter once again, but it’s still hot and sweaty enough that Frank’s irritation kicks up a notch at their presence. The trio spend a little time scoping out a table – the blonde insists they have a good amount of natural light, the bigger kid seems to have stipulations that they don’t sit too close to the counter and the third is complaining about a draft from the door, despite the fact it’s eighty-six degrees out. By the time they finally settle on the exact same table they were sitting at last time, Frank is ready to hit someone.

‘Can I get you guys anything to drink?’ He rumbles, pointedly slapping down three menus as he does so.

‘Three coffees, thanks,’ the girl responds, immediately. The menus don’t get a look-in.

‘Three coffees,’ he sighs. ‘Coming right up.’

It gets busy enough that he forgets to be irritated with the students until the night turns late, the diner empties and he realises the two boys are gone, leaving the girl behind. She’s plugged into some headphones, tapping her pencil anxiously against a textbook she’s scribbling on.

He sends David, the kid who helps him with serving on Saturdays, home around nine, and eventually the evening regulars filter out too. The girl remains. She’s devolved to chewing on her pencil, head almost literally buried in textbooks by this point.

‘Hey,’ he calls from the counter. She doesn’t respond. He can hear the tinny buzz of her music filtering out through her headphones from here. He gets a little closer, gives an awkward wave – then shakes his head at his own ridiculousness and goes to rap on the table top.

He watches her jump halfway out of her skin, textbook raised instinctively in a vague sort of self-defence, and immediately feels bad.

‘God, sorry,’ she breathes out, tearing her headphones. ‘I’m about ten cups of coffee deep,’ she tells him, unnecessarily; he’d poured all of them for her. His previous guilt abates somewhat; she’s jumpy as hell, clearly wired. ‘Feeling a bit – well, you know.’

‘We’re closing,’ Frank grunts. 

‘Right – right, sorry,’ she breathes out. As she begins packing away books he wipes down the last few tables, grabs a broom to sweep up.

There’s something distracting about the girl’s presence, as much as he tries to force abject disinterest. Her hair is long and blond, pulled up into a messy bun – he thinks he can see a pen buried in there somewhere – and she’s clearly exhausted. Distracted, too; she’s trying to pull on a jacket with one hand as she flips through revision cards with the other, mumbling facts under her breath as she goes. 

When her hand reaches for the door handle, he realises it’s trembling.

‘Hey,’ he calls out, before he can stop himself. The girl turns, concern written across her features. ‘When did you last eat?’

She opens her mouth, lets out a long, unconvincing, _uh_ that has him rolling his eyes.

‘If you don’t know, it’s been too long,’ he mutters, shaking his head. ‘Wait there.’

When he emerges with a sandwich wrapped up in paper, she’s already protesting, hands held outward as if he’s threatening her with a knife, rather than the meal he’s wielding.

‘Oh, no – I’ve got no cash, on me, I –’

‘’S’on the house,’ he grumbles. When she doesn’t step forward, staring at her a little blankly, he moves to her, presses the sandwich into her hand.

‘Oh,’ she bleats at him. But then she recovers, shoots him a high-watt smile. ‘Thank you.’ She turns to leave – turns back again. ‘Sorry, for all the bother, with all our study stuff, and -’

‘It’s no problem,’ he tells her.

‘We won’t be bothering you any time soon – we’re just studying for tests and stuff, but it’s all done, soon. On Tuesday.’

‘Tuesday. Right.’

She nods, slow, once and again, tucks a strand of hair behind her ears. Her face is a little pink.

‘You know, you should get wi-fi in here.’

That has him lifting an eyebrow.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah – you’d have loads of people coming in.’

‘More students?’ He scoffs, immediate and acerbic.

She blinks at that, head rearing back and he realises, too late, how rude, how sharp, that had sounded. His mouth flaps open, casting for a way to sooth the sting – but the girl’s already turning, mumbling out a _right, sorry,_ the door slamming behind her.

He watches her go down the street until she disappears from sight. Then he goes back to wiping tables.

He doesn’t see her again for three months.

 

**Author's Note:**

> doesn't really need to be said but obviously frank is aged down here because a 40 year old frank hanging with a college-aged karen page is kinda odd
> 
> sooo i posted this on my [writing tumblr](http://idekman-ao3.tumblr.com/), so if you liked it and wanted to share with your followers go ahead! or give me a follow on my [regular blog](http://judest-francis.tumblr.com/) idk whatever you do you


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